


Trek in the Snow, Soar like an Eagle

by TEC



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandonment, Gen, Incredibly Smart Wolves, Miserable Puppy, Not All People Are Awful, Real Issue, Smart Puppy, Wolfess is Not a Real Word, made for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TEC/pseuds/TEC
Summary: A young German Shepard puppy is abandoned in the snow to die. Hopelessly trekking into the cold dark, hoping for a miracle, or a second chance. During his misery, he meets a large shadow.





	Trek in the Snow, Soar like an Eagle

**Author's Note:**

> So, I want my Author Name to be T.E.C. (my full name abbreviated) but, AO3 didn't like that, so here we are!

The young German Shepard trekked through the snow, sniffing the air when he was desperate enough. The young dog whimpered when the air told of no trace of his family. Lowering his head, he trekked on. He could only hope to get a trace.  
Why did they leave? The Shepard, lanky, barely a few months old, wondered. Sure, he chewed on the tree a bit too much, but he stopped when they told him too! He pooped on the carpet, but it was so cold outside! His tail swished too fast, knocking the younger of the human pups down, but it made a loud noise! He just got startled! The little one cried for a bit, then went right back to tugging on his tail until he whimpered, screeching loudly with joy when he did. But he took it, like a good boy. Even when the alpha male and alpha female were whispering in scarily harsh voices, looking his way.  
The Shepard growled, barely audible to anyone, or thing, around. A snowstorm had long since passed blanketing his world in dazzling white, sparkling under the, abnormally, bright half-moon. Making the shadows look like the world’s oddest menagerie.  
How could they do this to him, what did he do? He remembered the joy of being taken out of the punctured box, the immense joy on the human pups’ faces, the broad smiles of his new alphas. Everything! Everything had such joy and smelled of sweetness and pine. He had learned his first word, “Christmas,” after all his new pack screamed it, since he was the last present, like a ceremony. He learned many words after that too, with great ease. He had learned “sit” immediately, after the oldest pup taught him, shoving her hands down, making his head tilt nonstop. He got it quickly though, she wanted him to go down, how was the question. He sat down to think on it, and she squealed and gave him some jerky.  
He didn’t need the food, he just wanted that squeal again, to see that immediate joy and pride. The children loved teaching him tricks and giving treats and praise. He found that if he moved his body enough, he would eventually do what they wanted, and he’d get those squeals.  
The dog whimpered again, he missed it.  
The air was so warm throughout those few months of his life. Then, like a flash, things had changed. The winter was not needed, for the air that was in the house was already iced and could only be melted by a forest fire. The human pups walked around with their heads down, those last days, and whenever he did his little barks and tail wags, they would just cry and run to their rooms. His alphas would look at him coldly, mumbling things that he could only understand in patches. Words like, “big,” and “destructive” were the most common. The last two days before they left, he just sat down in front of the, once merry, fireplace, head on his paws, hoping that if he did nothing, the young pup would hear those squeals again.  
He did not.  
He looked back, not surprised when he saw nothing but tall pines and snow. The house was long ago abandoned, his already thinning body was proof of that. By spring, the snow will have melted, and that pack would return, not concerned if they will come back to an empty space or a forgotten body.  
His stomach growled, he growled right back. It wasn’t his fault he was hungry, so shut up! He tried to remember his favorite word, watching as one paw came into his sight, only to disappear and be replaced by the other. No doubt that was happening right now, his alphas probably already have a replacement for him. Something smaller and more destructive, something they can just blame the size on and not care about. Unlike him. Dogs like him were only supposed to behave one way. Good.  
His favorite word, his favorite word, his favori—ah! Yes. That was it, “Eagle.” His name. The younger, but not the youngest, of the pups had called him that, thinking he looked like one of the wild eagles in the area. At least color wise. He immediately like the sound of it, and barked with all his, at the time, tiny little buddy could muster. He was four months old, being barely two when Christmas arrived, along with him.  
Four months, so young to be so cold. His ears still had that annoying flop to them, his paws not used to rough terrain yet, his stomach not prepared to be so hollowed yet. He looked back again, hoping to see the house, cheerily lit, with his pack, waiting with opened arms. He didn’t. All he saw was darkened bark, sharp snow, and horrid shadows. He kept walking, hoping his wouldn’t swallow him whole.  
The snapping of a branch grabbed his attention, making his head swivel to the left, so fast he could hear the faint pop.  
The pup’s pricked up, heckles rising to the occasion, breath coming out in quick, frosty flames. His nose was not as keen as he would’ve liked, and the nipping only numbed his senses past the point of uselessness. A quick swish of black next to a tree, to the right of him this time. He swiveled to the right too quickly though, he could see black spots dance across his vision, trying to overtake the poor, inexperienced puppy. He shook his head desperately, hoping against hope that it was his imagination, that he wouldn’t have to deal with the outcome of this nightmare.  
Behind him, this time. Left again! No, right! In front of him? A paw? A tail? A head? Was this creature the inky black it appeared to be? Or, just a dark brown? The moonlight was failing him, a cloud coming over to have a quick chat, not knowing the peril it was putting a helpless puppy in. The shadows seemed to be against him, moving pine needles turning into sharp claws and teeth, trunks turning into mighty legs of some legendary beast, clouds dancing along the forest floor, morphing into shapes beyond recognition, only aiding whatever seemed to be stalking him.  
It was so close, labored breaths too deep to be his own. The quiet of the forest amplified this, the sounds so close to his floppy ears, making the pup shake and shiver. Not from the cold, but from the near paralyzing fear. He whimpered and whined as whatever was hunting him grew closer, drawing nearer, no longer even trying to act like it didn’t exist. It was ruffling the pines, the leafless bushes, the stalks of sleeping flowers, breaking every twig it came across, dragging its claws along the bark of any fallen tree trunk.  
He couldn’t take it anymore. He lied down, succumbing to fear, to cold, to hunger, to rage, to every negative thing that had happened to him, to everything that teared himself from the happiness that was promised to him by his supposed pack, his “family.” His alphas that teared him down and left him to die, instead of teaching him, caring for him, loving him. To the human pups, his siblings, that left him to die, without so much as a protest on their tongue. He may not have known many words, but he understood when there was a lack of them.  
The snow felt cold, seeping whatever strength he had and, for good measure, freezing his muscles, tendons, even his very bones, to the point where moving was a warm daydream. The wind was howling, blowing the few bits of loose snow from their perches, swirling around and around. The moon had come back from its chat, that wretched cloud going somewhere more entertaining. The light was useless now, it could only light his death. It held no warmth to give him strength, just empty promises of happiness, not unlike the promises of the ones that left him here. He was too young to be this cold.  
He hadn’t realized that he had closed his eyes, small tears going down his fur, adding to the cold, until he felt a faint bump against his nose. He shot up, neck protesting, wanting to at least meet his attacker face-to-face. He had just enough pride left in him anyway. The frosty flames stopped for a moment, as he took in what his sight was telling him.  
A grand mass of ink stood before him, all muscle and smarts. He smelled the air, his nose just catching their scent. A female, much older than him, and not quite a dog. She was huge, over half the size of his former alpha male, and taller than all his former siblings. He didn’t think he would ever get so large, he wondered how his former alphas would react if this thing lived with them. The thought made him snort in amusement, though he immediately regretted it as the frosty air stung his lungs.  
She stood silently, simply watching him. Not attacking, not even showing a tooth, just… watching. He shifted; all he could do in his frozen state. The pup started when the female dipped low, obviously straining her neck to get eye level with him, he whimpered. She gave him a brief sniff, her eyes turning kind, realizing something.  
The puppy yelped when the Ink got lower, digging her nose underneath his chest, and pushing up, trying to get him to his feet. He whimpered sorrowfully, batting pitifully with his paws at her. The movement hurt his muscles, frozen from the long exposure to such temperatures. He should be in a warm den, snuggled up with pack-mates, not dying from the cold. Instead, he was, in fact, dying from the cold. His skin felt too warm, burning hot! Hot! Hotter! He was closing his eyes, snapping awake at her slightest movement. But the part that got her worried most, was the worst—he was not shivering anymore, his own body had given up. Now, all the blood that had desperately kept him alive, was going back to their original places, making him feel like he was being boiled alive.  
No longer wanting to do this the easy way, she grabbed the pup by his scruff. What sounded like loud whimpers to him, were only higher pitches of air to her. He was as light as a feather, and why not? He had starved for weeks now, only getting brief bits of vegetation when it mercifully grew under the bright sun. She looked back the way she came, all twisted edges, and perilous ditches. Somewhere no human in their right mind would trek, but somewhere the abandoned could call solace.  
She had nearly twisted a paw, dipped it in icy water, and flat out almost fell into the gaping ditches that the clumsy called home. But she was more than used to the trail. It sung to her sweetly, only testing her wit when it felt her getting bold. That was fine with the wolfess, she had no need for pride, only enough dignity to keep her head high, and the enemies low.  
The path was a nightmare. Left, right, right, left, up, into a seemingly random bush, up, left, right, left, up, down, through a tree trunk. The path was so confusing, the pup hanging from her mouth closed his eyes, more willing to sleep through this confusing change of events, paws gently dragging against snow and roots. The wolfess had to disagree though, shaking the poor dog awake, until she could sense that his eyes were open. The first time was scary, working almost instantly, second time was confusing, why did she want him awake? Third time, okay, getting annoying. Fourth time, alright, now he was cross-eyed! Five times? Fine. The wolfess won. She was more than pleased when the tiny thing in her mouth was fighting with the blissful escape of sleep. She knew that once his eyes closed, they would not open again, though she could understand the aching need to lie in the dark when things just seemed hopeless. She turned the last right, went up the last time, and got into the final round of thorny, prickling bushes. The pup hanging on to consciousness all the while.  
She got to the pine, right on time. The pup couldn’t take it anymore, and just passed out, and would not wake, no matter how many times she shook him. She jumped, gracefully, unto the nearest branch, using her back paws for balance, keeping one of her front paws on the trunk, not so gracefully. She jumped from the first pine, to a large oak, to another pine, to a random birch, then to another oak. The process was precise, able to be missed it if one blinked. She finally got to her destination, to a tall, thick tree. The bottoms revealing it to be a mix of birch, oak and pine, wrapped together when they were saplings from crushing winds, fusing together as the decades blurred into centuries. She got to a hole, hidden by the mass of leaves, kept safe by its pine lineage. It fit just a tad too snuggly, but she proved, more times than one, that sucking in your gut could make a world of difference.  
The little pup in her jaws found the strength to whine, even in his frozen, unconscious state. With no time to lose, she got deeper into the wooden cave, lying down on the warmest part, right in the middle. She put her back to the opening, laying the pup down unto her tail, the small body gravitating towards the warmth of her own. She laid her head down, over the pup, her dense fur almost covering the small fur ball completely in warmth. She stayed awake all through the rest of the night, and much of the morning, quite used to long nights, and even longer mornings.  
Only when the sun was at its brightest, on the very top of her white world, did she attempt to wake the small thing on her tail. Nudging him gently, she got the young one off her tail, and unto the warm, wooden floor below. The little thing yawned and stretched; the movement not impaired by frigid cold, an unfamiliar friend. He smacked his lips, and looked around lazily, curious at the sight of wood all around. The tan inside of the trunk seemed good at keeping their warmth in, even with the wider opening breaking up all the tanned surface.  
Their...  
Their?  
Their! Eagle yelped his highest yelp yet, and swiveled towards the large mass of shadow, lying right beside him, like the thought of him being her next meal never crossed his mind. The large mound of living ink looked amused at him, eyes twinkling fondly, and tail swishing playfully. Even though she was built like a fluffy boulder, she still had a way of calming him. Maybe it was his desperate need of some kind of affection that made him trust her, that made him drag his paws right to her, and flop on her in a tired huff, causing an amused huff of her own.  
But naptime was over, they needed to get home. She grabbed the pup, who made no sign of protest, except for a groan of acceptance, and trotted to the opening. Leaving the sanctuary was always hard for her, but so was watching little, frozen pups slouch in the beautiful snow. Using the, still present, moon as a guide, she quickly ran to the mountain, the same one that attracted Eagle’s former family to that very place in the first place. Minutes swiftly turned into the hours, the beautiful mountain losing some of its grandeur as they got closer. It was no longer a mystical, snowcapped wonder, it was a mass of rock that had no business blocking nature’s traffic. This one had use at least.  
Eagle huffed and puffed and tried to blow away any patience Ink had for him, to no avail. He tried to whine nonstop, only causing her to briefly stop as she caught her breath through huffs of laughter. Wriggling was no good, the grip on his puppy scruff too perfect, not enough to hurt him, but certainly enough to keep him from going anywhere. And growling had the same result as whining. He had no idea why he was pushing his precarious luck, she was obviously kind, but how far could one really go, listening to ear-bleeding whines all day before they snapped and chucked you into the nearest snow mound? He might find out if he kept at it.  
He was just about to close his eyes, after whining and wriggling all day, when they came to a sudden halt at the mountain’s edge. He was just fine with keeping his eyes closed through the voyage up the mountain. If he were human, he would probably have his arms crossed with a too obvious pout. What made him open his eyes? All the commotion.  
When he opened his eyes, he had to double check—maybe quadruple check. There were dogs everywhere, of all colors and sizes, all running around, going nuts. Eating, playing, napping, napping, and some more napping, paws kicking and tired “Borfs!” galore. Some even looked like Ink, all muscle and brain. Some were standing alone, watching the barking banter and rough housing with tender eyes, others were sitting with a dog closely by them, watching the pups, even smaller than him, at play.  
He made a small growl, promptly stopped by Ink’s shaking, when a young boy and an older man walked out from a small gate in the mountain. The young boy waved his hand at Ink in welcome, jogging to them at surprising speed. Some of the long-legged dogs looked at the boy in envy.  
He stopped right in front of Eagle, looking at the pup with wide, happy eyes. The young dog didn’t know this was the look the boy had when pups arrived safe and sound. He reached for Eagle’s paw, only to be shown long fangs.  
Ink moved to shake him again, only to be stopped by the boy. The two shared eye contact for just a moment, eyes briefly twinkling mischievously. But, enough was apparently said in that stare, because next thing Eagle knew, he was being handled by the young boy, while being stared down by Ink.  
He looked at the boy with obvious mistrust, floppy ears flopping, and little nose twitching. The boy sighed, keeping the pup at arm’s length, he looked sad, sorrowful. Eagle instinctively wanted to bark and wag his tail, to cheer him up, but didn’t want to get kicked out in the snow.  
Was he too friendly? Was that why he was abandoned? But that didn’t make sense! What could it have possibly been—the boy brought his arms closer, taking a risk. Putting Eagle’s paws on his shoulders, he hugged him close, and scratched his filthy fur. Eagle listened as the boy’s soft voice wondered through his brain, filling a hole that needed to be filled, that had only been getting bigger and more painful as the days turned into weeks.  
Eagle’s eyes felt heavy as he groaned happily, wagging his tail slowly, and just going limp. The boy’s soft laughter awoke him, he huffed in annoyance. The boy’s soft laugh, yet again, filled the air, making Eagle think back to Christmas. He preferred the boy’s softer laugh, over the human pups’ shrieks. He didn’t realize that they hurt his ears until they were gone, and then the silence was the most deafening thing. He groaned, blissed out by all the affection and soft sounds, as the older of the two walked up to the trio.  
He briefly looked disapprovingly at his son, a smile as soft as the boy’s laugh gracing his features. The man was an older copy of his son, only his sharp features were softened by age, and glasses hung loosely on his nose. Hair as bright as birch, tall as one too, though his son was not going to grow quite as tall as his dad, already that was clear. The boy’s head just barely made it to the man’s shoulders, and the boy was obviously in his mid-teens.  
The father’s skin was mostly copper, except for the batches of honey under his shirt, where the sun didn’t hit. His son was just the color of fresh honey, not having as much sun as the father. The skin contrasting vividly with their bright hair, his eyes such a dark blue, they looked purple, the father’s had specks of sky-blue bleeding in. They had long noses and pointed chins, broad chests, but thin legs. The boy looked to be a miniature of his father, except his hair was fuller, was shorter, wasn’t as tanned, and his eyes weren’t having the color slowly leeched from them. Though most of those things would correct themselves in the coming years.  
Eagle noticed a stain on the man’s shirt, a vivid black in color, like Ink. He looked down and whined for his friends. The boy’s mouth moved, the word “want,” clueing him in on what the boy was saying. He whined again, pointing his noise at the man’s shirt stain. The man’s mouth moved now, though Eagle only latched onto the word “ink.”  
It took a few minutes for the duo to guess what the dog was hinting at. It took the son asking his dad to say Ink again, that gave them an idea. The boy laughed joyously when he finally figured out the cute truth. The little dog had named their wolf friend Ink. It suited her he admitted, though they hesitated to name the wolves in the sanctuary—since they were still wild animals—the female wolf seemed to have no problem with being addressed as such, even wagging her tail in approval.  
An eagle screeched above them, soaring high, initiating another game of “Guess Who!” only ending once the father directly addressed the dog as “Eagle!”  
It seemed Ink had been spying on whatever family abandoned him. Which one, could only be guessed. Many families brought their kids to this mountain, bringing dogs, cats and the like, only to leave them to die in the mountains, cold and alone.  
The wolves had been a surprise when the older of the two had started a sanctuary here, showing up one day, a small frozen puppy in their jaws, and completely docile. Ink was the sole alpha of the group, a small, runty brown half-wolf as her beta, the rest undyingly loyal. The wolves were there to rescue abandoned pets, dogs staying, everything else going to specialized rescues. They warmed them, fed them fresh meat, played with them to build their strength. They were there when his son was born, sealing the boy’s fate with never ending love for canines as a result. Though the mother left some time after, not wanting to live with wild animals and him and his son having it no other way, the wolves never wavered in their loyalty. Some died, or left, some were kidnapped, only to be tracked down by Ink herself. Some even had puppies with the dogs. Little balls of chaotic fluff, lucky to be guaranteed a pack to go to when they grew up, joining in on the rescues, or taking a chance, and going alone, or with a few like-minded others.  
This little German Shepard...no surprise sadly. Such a big, strong and smart animal. An everyday family wouldn’t be able to handle all that energy and power. Even now, the small, wriggling thing was a menace! The man chuckled softly, a good match for the stoic, Ink. A proper bath, a few hugs, and some actual training—human and wolf—Eagle could become a very promising rescue dog, especially if he survived out there all by his lonesome and still had this much bravado. He had already shown he had just as much odd intelligence as Ink. That would be essential.  
The man could tell, looking at Ink, the old girl, that her thoughts were his own. They shared a look, one only forged by years of solid friendship. He smirked, friends with a wolf. Sounded like a bad joke, but it was a great adventure. He handed, “Eagle” off to his son, with a pat on both of their heads, the pup leaning into it with glee, the son swatted away his. He still had sick animals to tend to, his boy would tend to the spitfire. He chuckled as he heard his son’s shout of betrayal as Eagle jumped out his arms, running to the older pups and wolf cubs, yipping and bouncing all the way. Heard Ink’s huff of amusement as he ran up to her, booping her nose with his, then taking off like a shot.

**Author's Note:**

> By advised; this is by far NOT my best work. I got inspired and essentially thought "Why not?" I thought this would be the best thing to post first, because I actually do like it quite a bit, I just know that it is not the best, and not even that good. More will come, especially since I need an outlet of random stories while I'm writing my book. Feel free to critique, and point out grammar mistakes, or any inconsistency! I will not feel offended and will be glad to mark down my mistakes, even if this is a work that I didn't try hard on.  
Happy Writing, Bookworms!


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